Ad Hominem
by cherryredxx
Summary: The line between what's right and what's easy is often a blurry one.
1. PROLOGUE

**A/N:** Before anyone asks, I am still working on _Pretend_ and my other WIPs mentioned on my profile. This story is something that I got an idea for while I was in the middle of class and I just had to pursue it. I'm reeeally nervous about this one because it is rather dark and unlike anything I've ever written, and also it is based on some legal principles that may or may not be difficult to understand. I will do my best to clarify it so that it all makes sense. I may or may not update this frequently, and I may not update it at all if no one seems to like it, so please review if you want me to continue.

Thanks to Ash (Fire the Canon) for looking this over for me. ;)

* * *

The Ministry courtrooms, though quiet, were brimming with tension. The most controversial case of the decade was about to commence, and every witch or wizard in Britain was anxious to get a seat and witness history in the making.

People of all ages filtered in, and the young witch with the long mane of red hair watched nervously as she silently maintained her calm persona. There were people who she knew, but there were even more who she didn't. Having been an attorney for nearly five years, she was certainly used to the trial atmosphere, but this was going to be a whole different animal. This wasn't the typical case for her, not in any capacity.

She glanced sidelong at the man sitting behind her. His face was still and cold, and he was seemingly unaffected by the murmurs that were drifting in from the people who had come to watch him burn under the Wizengamot's ruling. But she knew he wasn't nearly as collected as he wanted the others to believe. His shaking hands betrayed him. Her client was very unsure if he had made the right decision when asking her to be his legal counsel, and the thought that he'd made a terrible mistake was one that was still in the back of his mind.

But it was too late now. The people were still piling in, filling every last available seat. It was almost as though they were gathering for a Quidditch match instead of criminal proceedings.

Her eyes shifted up to the far corner of the room where a family of six sat, each person adorned with the same head of hair that she saw in the mirror every morning. It warmed her heart slightly to see everyone there, watching her. If she closed her eyes tightly and tuned out the background noise, she could imagine she was back at the Burrow. The difference here was that, in this instance, her family was not present to support her.

In fact, for the first time in her life, she was entirely alone. But that was Ginny Weasley. Rather than doing what was easy, she chose to do what was _right_, no matter how difficult it would be.

Suddenly, the urge to vomit was present, and she swallowed hard to push back the extreme urge to be sick. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him looking at her. Her client had always been able to notice her nervous gestures, much in the way that she was able to identify his. Like her, all he gave in indication was a subtle passing glance, indicating only that her fear was not going unnoticed. It was as much comfort as he was willing to give, and it was as much as she was willing to receive from him.

Despite what she had said, she still wasn't quite so sure about him. She had no idea if she was making the right decision by defending what remained of his honor, nor did she know if the damage she had done in making this choice was reparable. But she shoved her emotions aside in favor of doing her job. It didn't matter now. It was too late to turn around and tell her client that she changed her mind. It was too late to tell her parents and her remaining four brothers that she realized how wrong she had been when she had decided to defend this case. It was definitely too late to tell the Wizarding public and the Wizengamot.

It was too late to go back.

A loud rumble sounded through the courtroom, and a regal wizard approached his chair, his long purple robes trailing behind him majestically.

"All rise for the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Ginny tapped her client's hand and together they rose respectfully.

Kingsley took his time and held his chin high as he took his seat, nodding to Ginny and her opposing counsel. Once he finally took his seat before the high court and the Wizarding public, he gestured towards her table. "Is the defense prepared for opening arguments?" he asked.

"We are, Your Honor," Ginny answered.

"Proceed."

She nodded at her client, who took his seat, before walking towards the center of the room, the arena-style seats suddenly more prominent and intimidating than they had ever been before. There had been dozens of occasions in which she had worked in the same courtroom, but there was just something different about being on the opposing side – the hated side. Her shallow breath was deafening in her own mind, but she kept her face expressionless as she ignored the jeers from various members of the public.

After addressing the high court and the Minister, she began with her opening arguments.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot, I stand before you today, not in my normal capacity as a Prosecutor, but as a solicitor for the defense, and I have only one thing to say. It alarms me, as a liaison to the law, that so many people have been determined to slander my name because of my involvement with this case. My reputation has been spotless for the years that I have been a practicing attorney, and not once have I ever allowed my personal life to get in the way of my job. This case is certainly no different.

"It is with that that I must first acknowledge the capacity with which I am here today, representing the man sitting behind me at the defense desk. I am not testifying, and so there is no personal gain to be made here. I am in no way trying to sabotage a man who has so clearly already faltered beneath the public's withering eye. If I am to defend this man, and I am to the best of my ability, then I expect a fair trial from everyone involved. Per the Ad Hominem standard, it is my arguments that must stand up here, not my reasoning for giving them, and certainly not my character. You must remember that I am not on trial here.

"By the same token, I must also discuss the reasons for why I am here today as a defense attorney when many people have stated that I would be best suited for arguing against the defendant. The latter I cannot comment on, but it is something that everyone should think about. Why am I here, defending a known felon? Why am I arguing to maintain the freedom of a man whose family has been nothing more than a menace to our society for decades, and why am I standing before a courtroom, before so many people, defending a man who had previously aligned himself with an army whose sole purpose was to tear apart the Wizarding world as we know it?

"Because every person, according to our law, is entitled to a fair trial with adequate defense."

She paused, allowing the murmuring in the room to silence.

"According to our law, each crime committed by a single individual, especially when charges are of a different nature and happen over a span of several years, must be treated as separate. I am appalled that the people of England have been so unjust in trying to tie his past crimes – for which he has already been tried and served time for – into what he is being accused of today.

"His previous felony charge occurred when he was a minor. His father's guilt – for which is being served for the remainder of his life in Azkaban prison – and his mother's support for her husband – for which she has been exiled from England – have no bearing on the matter at hand today. Differentiating these crimes and treating them as individual, while focusing on who is actually on trial, is all I am asking. With this help from the Wizengamot and the public, I will prove beyond a reasonable doubt, that Draco Malfoy could not have murdered Ronald Weasley."


	2. SKELETONS

An unnervingly calm feeling washed over her as she stared out the window of her fifth-story office. From the seat behind her desk, a clear view of Diagon Alley was present. She loved and hated in equal parts the fact that she could see such a beautiful sight each time she glanced out her window, even more so in the winter months. Christmastime had always been her favorite season as a child – no, _their_ favorite season – but now the thought of unwrapping the mounds of gifts seated beneath their humble tree made her sick to her stomach. She hated Christmas now, and everything that it meant to her family.

The small village shimmered beneath the setting sun as the shops began to close early, as they always did on Christmas Eve. But she remained in her office, staring at the various photographs arranged atop her desk, her face still and set and emotionless. She saw various family members, smiling and laughing with bright eyes and even brighter smiles.

Her eyes settled on a photograph of herself, arms wrapped around a man who was about her age with hair the same vibrant shade of red as her own. She could almost feel her heart break into a thousand, irreparable shards as she turned the photograph onto its face. That girl in the picture didn't exist anymore, and it was almost inconceivably torturous to be continuously subjected to such a teasing glimpse of what her life used to be like.

Hastily, she stood and swept herself away to close the curtains over the window, but she hesitated. If she squinted her eyes and stared down at the Alley, she could almost see them. She could pretend that the happy families with beautiful children – running in the snow and teasing each other mercilessly – could be her family.

Her memories.

With a heavy heart, she pulled the curtains together and then gently dabbed at the corner of her eye with her sleeve. She was never really one to cry, especially not when she was younger. But times had changed, and so had she.

Her office door creaked open, and she quickly finished wiping the tears from her face. "My office is closed," she said crossly, now more than ever not wanting to be bothered. "It's Christmas Eve and it's after five. You'll need to come in on Monday." She still did not turn around, not wanting to reveal her swollen red eyes to anyone, least of all a client.

"Come now," a voice drawled from behind. "You don't even have a moment to spare for an old friend?"

She stiffened visibly. That voice she would recognize anywhere, and hearing that familiar sarcastic inflection hit her like a bucket of ice water. "I'd hardly call you a friend," she muttered.

He tutted patronizingly as he approached her from behind. "Is that any way to greet me, Ginevra?"

Rushed with fury at being called by her full name, she turned abruptly, uncaring about whether or not her face was still flushed and swollen from crying, though she knew he'd definitely notice the dried streaks on her face. "Get out of here," she hissed. "Any time you're ever around, all you do is cause trouble."

He looked her over, eyes roaming over her face as though he was waiting for a hint that Ginny would cower beneath his gaze. But after a moment of her matching his stony glare, he allowed the façade to drop. "Relax. For once, this isn't about you, Weasley."

"When has it ever been about me, Malfoy?"

His thin, pink lips formed into a smirk. "Just the once, love."

Her cheeks flushed at the memory, and she desperately wanted to punch the blond man in the nose. There had been one time that he had been good to her and had put her needs above all else, but then he'd ruined it by abandoning her and laughing in her face because she had assumed that one night of intimacy when she was barely twenty had meant something to him as well. But it hadn't, and she had been left behind, embarrassed and weak, vowing to never allow herself to be at the mercy of someone else.

And it was that same night that…

No. She couldn't think about that night, for any conceivable reason. One indiscretion, one brutal argument, and one tragedy later had turned that night into a nightmare.

She breathed deeply, clearing her head before her brain became overworked and her thoughts unbearable. "What do you want then?" Ginny asked through gritted teeth.

"I am in need of your professional services."

The redhead fumed. "If you think I am going to be _purchased_ for sexual favors, you're even more _bent_ than I ever thought you could be!"

But Draco just seemed amused. "I'd never need to purchase you, love. Even if I thought you were worth the money, it'd be unnecessary to pay to get into _your_ knickers."

That time she did haul back, visibly displaying her attempt at physically altering his smug nose, but he caught her fist before she could make contact with the center of his face. In one swift motion, her arm was pinned behind her back painfully as she was turned towards the window. His chest was pressed against her such that she could feel his breath on her ear, and she knew he was angry.

"Try anything like that again, love, and it will be the end of my civility towards you."

"Like I need it."

A harsh laugh escaped his lips for a brief moment before an air of dire consequence resonated between them. Even when Draco chose to act remotely amicable, it was still wise to act with caution towards him. He was a good actor, and Ginny had never been good at reading people. "You, love, are treading on _very_ thin ice," he hissed.

After taking a few deep breaths, she managed to calm her emotions, knowing full well that the man pressing into her from behind had no qualms with hurting her, no matter what they had shared in the past. "All right," she said, her voice hoarse. "What do you want from me?"

"I told you." His demeanor calmed significantly, and his grip on her arm slackened just enough so that Ginny no longer felt like her limb was being forcibly removed. "I need your services. And I don't mean in the bedroom, Weasley – although I realize that was never really your locale of choice for such activities. I mean, you are going to defend me in front of the Wizengamot."

Ginny was suddenly puzzled. "I – I'm a prosecutor, Malfoy, not a defense attorney. That's not what I do."

"I think you're going to make an exception."

Suddenly realizing that Draco was no longer holding her still with the same degree of force – or any force at all, really – Ginny tugged her arm down and turned to face him. "First of all, Malfoy, there is a reason for why I chose to prosecute. That's what I'm good at, and you would be sacrificing your entire case if I defended you."

He stiffened slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I understand the risks here, Weasley, and you ought to know that I'd never have come to you if I hadn't considered all other options beforehand."

"Quite flattering," she answered with a roll of her eyes. "And second, why on Earth would I do you a favor?"

Draco's pale grey eyes darkened several shades as they narrowed into thin slits. "Because, love, if you don't defend me, it's going to come back on you. You'll be called in as a witness for my defense."

"Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy. What help would I be? I haven't seen you for three years! The last time I saw you was when we…"

"Yes, exactly. You're my alibi, and if you don't defend me, you will most certainly be called to testify about our activities that evening. I'm sure your family would love to hear about the things we did together." As he said this, he gently touched his fingertips to her cheeks and brushed them against her lips. "I'm sure they'd love to hear all of the naughty things you let me do to you."

Ginny shuddered violently as she slapped his hand away. Simply thinking about her family finding out that she and Draco had ever been intimate was sickening, and alarmingly so. They just couldn't know. She didn't have much of an option, did she? Either she could out herself, or she could swallow her pride and defend him. But there was still something so wrong here. Obviously he was using his whereabouts of the evening as leverage, but why would Malfoy _care_ if it would kill her. He didn't care about her at all. He never had.

"Why don't you just use another attorney?" she questioned. "Surely your family has the resources. You – you don't need me, do you?"

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? No, Weasley, there's no one else. I've consulted several other attorneys, but they all seem to think my only option is a plea bargain."

"And what makes you think I'll do anything differently?"

"Because I've got you, Weasley. I'll out our secret love affair, and it will be the end of that pristine reputation."

"No one will believe you!"

He shrugged casually. "Maybe not." He began twirling a loose strand of her red curly hair around his finger. "But considering the fact that you've agreed to be my attorney, maybe they will think twice about it."

"This is blackmail, Draco! This is so unfair – I've got other cases to work on, putting away criminals. I don't defend them! Why do you want to hurt me? And what could you have possibly done three years ago that's still not past the statute of limitations? The Wizengamot changed limitations on cases after the War so that people could start fresh!"

Draco's lips twitched. His expression was a mix of amusement and some other emotion that Ginny could not identify. He shifted oddly. "There is no statute of limitations on murder."

Ginny froze, unsure of how to respond to that. The oddity in his expression and the tiniest hint of nervousness made her skin crawl. She had prosecuted several murder cases in the last three years, and very few of them had been left unsolved or untried.

But… but there was one case.

She slapped a hand over her mouth and held onto her desk so tightly that her knuckles blanched. She was frozen as she attempted to maintain her balance. No. No, it couldn't be. He couldn't have, could he? He was with her that night; he'd even admitted wanting to use her as an alibi. But Merlin only knew how manipulative Draco Malfoy could be. What if this was a trick? It had to be. No decent person would ever ask her to side with the defendant in this case. But he was. He'd backed her into a corner, and she had to do it.

"You – you – you killed him, didn't you?" she asked, her face ghostly pale. She thought she was going to be sick. "How can you… how… _why_?"

His stoicism remained intact. "Did I kill him?" he questioned, lifting an eyebrow. "I was with you, wasn't I?"

Struggling to regain her composure, she took several deep breaths. But she never took her eyes off him. "Why are they accusing you then?"

"Means, motive, and opportunity, love." He leaned back, reclining against the desk only inches away from where Ginny stood as she continued fighting to remain standing. "I'm sure you'll learn all about it once the trial begins."

"This is sick, do you know that? This is absolutely appalling!"

"And yet you're still going to do it, aren't you?" He rounded on her, forcing her to arch her back against the wooden desk and knocking several quills and files onto the floor. "Even though you know what I'm accused of, you're still going to defend me because your reputation is more important to you. You can't have anyone knowing that the sweet little Weasley girl has got skeletons in her closet just like the rest of us." His hand grazed her cheek. "It's all right, sweetheart," he purred as his mouth neared her ear. "No one has to know but me."

And then he was up, adjusting the clasp on his robes. "Well, anyway, do enjoy the rest of the holiday. I'll see you Monday, love."


	3. DOWN

_December 15, 2004_

_There was a knock at the door._

_Dressed in an old night shirt and a dressing gown, she answered it without thinking, eyebrow raised in question once she saw who it was on the other side. Quickly, she pulled the robe around herself as tightly as she could manage, her cheeks flushing slightly._

_"Malfoy?" she asked, unable to keep the silly smile from her lips. "What do you want?"_

_He smirked as he leaned lazily against the doorjamb. "Professors at the University of Law," he said, somewhat amused as his eyes traveled lazily from her head to her toes, "work in tandem with the Aurors."_

_"So?"_

_"So," he emphasized, standing upright, "that delicious little thing that teaches your Ethics class – she needs to see you to discuss an essay you wrote."_

_Ginny rolled her eyes. "And she sent an Auror to tell me this... why?"_

_"She's indisposed," he answered, an eyebrow raised suggestively._

_"Ugh."_

_Ginny turned around in mock disgust, leaving the door open wide so that Draco could come in. It wasn't as though his presence at her flat was entirely unexpected – and she couldn't honestly say it was unwelcome, either – as Malfoy had made his way through the teaching staff at the University, and she had found that he rather enjoyed pestering her when the opportunity came about. This drove her mad initially, but after awhile, she had to admit the more he came by and the more she saw how much he had changed since Hogwarts, the less she tended to mind his company._

_"Tea?" she offered as he followed her inside._

_"Please," he responded politely. "Black with lots of sugar. Dark and... sweet," he added as his eyes found her behind._

_Ginny rolled her eyes, knowing well enough that his words were constantly laced with innuendo. "I know how you take your _tea_," she quipped._

_"I just like to be sure, love."_

_She set the teapot on the cozy and placed mugs in front of their chairs as she took her seat. She propped her feet up and pulled her knees against her chest as they both sipped their drinks in a comfortable silence._

_"So, if you're already practicing law, why is it that you still have to write essays?" Draco asked after another moment of pleasant quiet._

_Ginny smiled. "I finished my degree, but the Ministry requires me to have a second one if I want to become a prosecutor."_

_"Ohhh," Draco responded with a nod. "You want to put all the bad guys away, do you?"_

_"Of course. Why learn what is and is not legal if you plan to help criminals get off scot free?"_

_Draco grinned at this – leaning forward in his seat, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked at his companion. "Just because you understand the law, doesn't mean that one day you won't break it, love."_

* * *

Ginny shivered as a chilly gust of wind brushed through the trees, goose flesh rising all over her skin as she tugged her woolly winter cloak more tightly around her shoulders.

The Knight Bus was not crowded – as it was not wont to be on most holiday eve's – and as such, Ginny had very little to help keep her mind occupied. Thoughts of that year continued to creep into her mind unbidden, and she was forced to relive those wretched nights over and over again. The rembrance of those last few days of her brother's life, the way she had spent them with _him_, and the bitter regret that now plagued her – the niggling though that was telling her she could have done something to save him – and was refusing to allow her peace and quiet, not even for a moment.

She was headed to the Burrow for Christmas Eve dinner with her family, and for the first time in years, she found herself dreading it, even though that was something she had thought she had long since gotten over. She knew she would never allow the memories of her brother to fade away, but she thought that she had finally moved on, that she had finally allowed herself to find comfort within her family, the desire and the peace of mind that she needed in order to move on.

But that was only the case until Draco Malfoy decided to barge into her life again.

Now she was, once again, plagued with guilt, with thoughts of faltering family loyalty. How could she possibly tell them that she was going to defend Draco Malfoy – defend him against her own family – for a crime that she couldn't even be sure he was not guilty of? How was she going to look her mother in the eye and confess that she, Ginny Weasley, was going to throw away every ounce of self-righteousness that she had ever possessed to cover up some tryst that she had had three years prior? She didn't know, and she most certainly wasn't looking forward to figuring it out. At the very least, it was going to have to wait until after the holiday.

When the bus pulled into Ottery Saint Catchpole, Ginny got up from her spot and took a seat near the front to await her stop.

There was a copy of the Daily Prophet sitting on one of the empty seats, and the front page story caught her eye immediately.

It was about Ron.

With shaky hands and a heavy heart, Ginny grabbed it and began reading

_24 December 2007_

_After three long years of investigating the brutal and unprecedented murder of Ronald Weasley, a former Auror and war hero, there has finally been a breakthrough that may be able to bring about his long-awaited justice._

_Draco Malfoy, who had been previously convicted of crimes against humanity immediately following the Second Wizarding War in 1998, will now return to trial for an even more heinous charge._

_However, what makes this case particularly interesting is not the case itself, but rather the circumstances surrounding it. _

_Esteemed Prosecutor and sister of the decased, Ginevra Weasley – who had previously stated to the media that she had every intention of prosecuting the case against the person or persons responsible for derailing her family once a suspect was finally named – has, in a shocking turn of events, gone over to the opposite bench. _

_As of yet, there has been no comment from Miss Weasley, but many people have been speculating why she has agreed to defend Mr Malfoy in this trial. Even more members of the Wizarding public have expressed their outrage, stating that once this trial reaches its no doubt bittersweet end, their confidence in this one-time, highly-revered attorney may have waned significantly._

_This is an ongoing story. Be sure to check the Daily Prophet for more news and updates about the upcoming trial!_

With tears stinging at the back of her eyes, Ginny crumpled up the paper in her hands and threw it into the rubbish bin sitting at the end of the row.

"I need to get off now please," she said, her face turning white as she placed a hand over her stomach protectively, feeling like she was going to become terribly ill at any moment. "Now!"

The Knight Bus came to a screeching halt as Ginny bolted from its door, doubling over and gripping onto her knees as she gasped for air.

She had no choices left, and there was no longer an opportunity to come clean to her family before the story hit the press. In her mind, she could already see what was coming, and all she wanted to do was run away. All of her strength had depleted, and all of her hope had run dry.

Her political and social demise had already begun.


End file.
